


we could still be lovers

by jennycaakes



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drinking, Forgiveness, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: In the middle of figuring out what Kent wants his future to look like, he runs in to a few complications. Like Swoops having a baby. And Kit getting sick. And navigating a friendship with Jack. And absolutely everything about Alexei Mashkov.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofhobbitsandwomen (litvirg)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litvirg/gifts).



> "blah blah blah kent is a bad person who--" SHUT UP in this house we love and respect kent parson ok i don't want to hear it i love him and he deserves redemption and i'm happy to explain to you why BUT FIRST let's read this fic about kent and tater fallin in love and kent and jack being friends again because i'm the writer and i can do whatever i want !
> 
> hope you like it!

Kent’s gotta go home.

He doesn’t know when he got so tired. He’s not even old, not even _30_ , but holy shit is he exhausted. He’s at a party for Swoops and his wife Elle because they’re having a fucking _baby_ and most of Kent’s teammates are drunk and Kent just wants to go home and go to bed.

It's likely that no one will even notice when he goes.

Swoops settles down beside him on the couch before he gets a chance.

“You can leave,” he says.

Kent smirks. “Did someone stick something to my forehead that says I would rather be with my cat, or…” Swoops laughs, swinging his arm over Kent’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you,” Kent says, because he is.

Swoops and Elle have been trying to have a kid for forever. This whole party, with all the team and all their friends, it’s been a lot of fun.

It’s just that Kent doesn’t really want to be here. In fact, he’s kind of sad. And he isn’t really sure why.

“Don’t tell the guys,” Swoops says, lowering his voice, “but we know the sex and--it’s a girl, Kent.” He grins, and Kent grins, and he really is happy for his friend. But there’s something about all of this that makes his stomach clench anyway. “I’m kind of relieved. I feel like I’d get too crazy with hockey pressure if it was a boy. And--I know the world is always fuckin’ changing and all that, but--”

“I’ll still play hockey with your little girl, Swoops, don’t worry.”

Swoops grins. “Love to hear it, Parse.” They’re both quiet for a second before he asks, “I want you to be her godfather.”

Kent turns. “What?”

“The kiddo,” he says. “I--I’m still trying to get Elle fully on board,” Swoops admits. “But you’re one of my best friends. You’ve really stepped up as a captain lately. If anything happened to us I’d trust you to take care of her.”

Kent isn’t sure he’s hearing Swoops correctly. “What?”

“It’s just we’re not… we’re not really sure what your plan is.”

Kent shakes his head. “My plan?”

“If you’re looking to settle down, if it’s something you’d be interested in, you know. Shit like that.” He drags his hand through his hair. “I think Elle’s just worried you haven’t grown up yet.”

“Jeff, shit.” Kent blinks hard, reaching out for his friend. “The fact that you’d even consider me--”

“Shuddup, Parse,” Swoops stops him. “You were a shitty player for a while because you were a kid. But you’re a captain for a reason and it’s not just because you’re the top point getter.”

Kent’s chest seizes with sadness. He knows a lot of the team still doesn’t respect him, but he wants to believe Swoops more than anything. He’s been working hard to be _better_ in all sense of the word. Picking less fights, making less dirty plays, putting in more effort to approach the new trades and show them around the city.

He still doesn’t have a lot of people. He never has. But he’s doing better.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever settle down,” Kent eventually says. “I mean--I’ve got Kit. She’s the most stable relationship I’ve ever had.”

Swoops snorts. “She’s a cat.”

“She’s also the most experience I’ve ever had in raising a thing,” Kent carries on. “So.”

“That’s not what we’re worried about,” Swoops says. Which means it’s not just Elle who’s hesitant about the whole godfather thing, but Swoops too. Which makes Kent’s chest hurt again. “Talk to me, Kent,” Swoops says, lowering his voice. “What’s life looking like for you? Say you do get hitched. Would you want kids?”

“Yeah,” Kent answers without missing a beat. He winces a little after. He’s not _sure_ that he would want kids. But there’s something about the dream of settling down after all of this that Kent can’t help but long for, and in that dream is a husband, a family. But saying it out loud feels childish, and Kent knows he’s never going to get there anyway. “I don’t know.”

“Would you be able to do it alone?” Swoops asks. “Take on a kid?”

Probably, Kent thinks, but he’s not sure that he would want to. He could if he needed to, like with Swoops and Elle if something tragic really did happen, but that’s not how he _sees_ it.

“Maybe she’s right,” Kent says. “You should pick someone else, Swoops. Someone who’s suited for it.”

Swoops squeezes his shoulder before pulling his arm back. “I want you to think about it,” he says. Kent’s chest is still tight. He wishes things like this could be easy. He’s never been very good at talking shit out. He’s ready for Swoops to leave when he says, “You know I’m here for you.”

Kent looks at his friend, nodding once. “I know,” he says. But even that concept is still hard for Kent. “It’s just.” Kent ducks his head. Swoops doesn’t move. “It doesn’t feel like a thing I can have.”

“What,” Swoops wonders, “a godkid? Or--”

“A family.”

He thinks about Swoops and Elle, about some of the other men and their people. They’ve even created a family amongst themselves on the team, but Kent’s still trying to figure out how to really be a part of that.

“No one’s ever gonna want that with me,” Kent exhales before forcing himself to smile like it’s a joke. But it’s not a joke. He’s a piece of shit. His own team doesn’t want him, there isn’t going to be anyone out there who would want to _settle down_ with him. “I’m serious. Ask someone else.”

“Have you been dating?” Swoops pushes. “Because if you’re ready to stop fucking around then there are definitely people who are gonna want to hop on that, Parson.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Jeff.”

“Kent. Think about it. The godfather thing, not the dating thing. But think about that too.”

He tells Swoops he’ll think about it because he knows Swoops won’t take no for an answer. After he drinks a glass of water he grabs his jacket from the hall closet and makes his way home without anyone stopping him to see where he’s going.

* * *

When Kent gets home, Kit doesn’t greet him at the door.

It takes him longer than it should to find her, and when he does, she isn’t moving.

* * *

For a long time, Kent didn’t have anyone to call when he was spiraling.

Swoops wasn’t an option yet which certainly meant every other fucking team member was out, and it’s not like Kent’s known for having an abundance of friends. He didn’t used to have a regular therapist, though he really fucking needed one, and any time he thought he was making progress he’d just self-sabotage to fuck himself over.

Instead he’d take pills, or have sex, or drink an absurd amount of alcohol so he wouldn’t have to think about it. Talking wasn’t an option, not after he’d lost Jack during the draft.

But after a brutal season a couple of years ago and a fuck ton of apologies on both parts, they reconciled, and suddenly _talking_ became an option again. Jack had opened up about how much a therapist and a good set of friends had transformed things for him and Kent realized that he wanted that. That drugs and sex were fine but if he wanted to stop the spirals, he’d actually have to do something about it.

That was when he and Swoops really started to connect. That was when he found his current therapist who takes calls during emergencies.

Slowly, he’s been finding connections and working through his shit.

But he can’t call Swoops now, because they’re still celebrating the baby, and he can’t call his therapist because of all fucking weeks she’s actually on vacation and they even talked about it before she left, and so really his only option is Jack.

His hands are shaking and he really cannot breathe and if Jack doesn’t answer the phone soon he’s going to actually--

“Hello?”

“Zimms I think I’m having a fucking panic attack I got home and Kit wasn’t moving and then I found some vomit and I just dropped her off at the fucking pet hospital but I’ve never been this fucking afraid in my life and I’ve never actually had a fucking pet die on me and oh my fuck _fuck what do I do?”_

There’s a pause on the other side. “Who is Kit?”

For a moment, Kent’s thrown. Pulled from the fear of the moment and forced back into a calmer reality. He blinks a few times and pulls back his phone, double checking that he dialed the right number.

“Don’t be a fucking dick Jack. You know Kit’s my fucking cat.”

“How am I knowing Kent Parson have cat?” someone who is _decidedly not Jack_ says.

“Who the fuck is this?” Kent snaps, a new level of anxiety bubbling up in him. Just smack it right between the ribs. “Where’s--”

“Zimmboni in shower,” says-- _you’ve gotta be fucking kidding_ \-- ”Alexei here.”

“Mashkov,” Kent exhales sharply. Fucking time zones. He always fucking forgets. They must’ve just finished a late practice, or something. “You can’t just fucking answer other people’s phones.”

“I’m having cat back home,” Mashkov says thoughtfully and Kent drops his head backwards against the brick wall. This is the exact opposite of how he’d planned his night to go. “She get sick once. But she much better now. Maybe Kit be same way.”

Kent forces himself to swallow. “Can you just fucking get Jack for me?” he mutters.

“Oh! One sec.”

Kent thunks his head backwards against the wall again. Again. Again.

“Kenny?”

“Fuck you, Jack,” he snaps. “Do you always let Alexei fucking Mashkov answer your phone or--”

Jack cuts him off, “He said something happened to Kit, are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the fucking animal hospital!” He retells the story to Jack with more detail, how he came home after the party and Kit didn’t greet him like normal, and how he found Kit curled up by the foot of his bed not moving, and right beside that was the puke. She’s breathing now and had nuzzled his hand a little but--”What if she’s sick?” he asks. “Like really sick. I’m not fucking equipped to handle this.”

“Kent,” Jack says gently. Kent closes his eyes to the sound of it. He should go home. There’s no reason for him to still be at the vet. But there’s something comforting about the still-warm brick of the building behind his back, the distant hum of cars on the highway. “What else can you do for Kit tonight?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Okay. So until you know what’s going on with her it doesn’t help either of you to freak.”

“Can’t fucking help it,” Kent mutters.

“I know.” Jack’s quiet for a moment. Just because they’re working on this doesn’t mean they’re always great at it. “You’ll be here soon,” Jack reminds him, and Kent exhales in relief. That’s true. In their attempt to patch up their friendship and make things okay again, Kent planned a trip out east. The Aces have some time off for now and Kent owed himself a vacation, even if it’s to fucking Providence. “Yeah? Hold on to that.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Kent says, but it’s only true if the same stands for Kit. If his cat dies before Kent’s ready he’s going to fucking lose his mind. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Get home safe,” Jack returns. “Maybe call Jeff.”

Kent hangs up and slips his phone into his pocket. He takes a deep breath of the cool Nevada night air before heading to his car. He doesn’t look back at the animal hospital before he drives away.

He leaves the radio off for his ride but rolls his windows all the way down and lets the sound of the rushing wind overwhelm him. By the time Kent gets back to his own apartment, he’s forgotten all about Mashkov answering the phone instead of Jack.

Until he checks his phone and has a Twitter notification.

_@alexeimashkov has followed you!_

Kent blinks a few times at the screen before he clicks through and pulls up Mashkov’s profile. It’s a lot of retweets, an absurd amount of memes, and full of generally good natured energy. All of his own tweets have too many exclamation points but they seem sincerely happy.

Kent hesitates.

He closes the app before he can think too much about it.

* * *

Kent wakes up to a phone call from the vet that says they ran some tests and Kit has a mild allergy to a few different things. He’d just bought a new kind of cat food, so he checks the ingredients, and, yep. Kent’s an idiot who almost killed his cat. Of course.

He picks Kit up that evening and she’s still a little laggy, but she sleeps on Kent’s stomach and purrs when he scratches right behind her ears, and something inside of Kent settles again.

 **Kent  
** kit’s good

 **Jack**  
Thank God.  
What happened?

 **Kent  
** i almost killed her

 **Jack  
** That’s probably not true.

 **Kent  
** she’s allergic to a fuck ton of shit in her food

 **Jack**  
Well.  
At least now you know!

Kent cancels his plans to stay in with her and binge watches some Netflix series that Swoops is always going on about. It’s the best night he’s had in weeks.

* * *

When Kent makes it to Providence a couple of weeks later, he’s surprised at the amount of people at the airport to pick him up. He’d just been expecting Jack.

But of course Bitty is there with him, as they’re attached at the hip, and then for some unknown reason Mashkov is also there. He and Bitty are deep in conversation, so neither of them notice Kent’s arrival, but Jack lights up in a way that makes Kent’s chest flood with heat.

“Kenny!” Jack rushes, moving forward and leaving his two friends behind so he can properly greet him. Kent drops his duffle on the ground beside him so he can open his arms. “Took you long enough,” Jack huffs, hugging him.

Kent rests his forehead against Jack’s shoulder and exhales. This is never not going to feel familiar. “Fucking plane delays.”

“It’s okay,” Jack says with a laugh. He gestures over his shoulder to where Bitty and Mashkov have paused conversation, smiling over at the two of them. “I had company.”

Kent frowns. “I noticed.”

“Alexei lives in my building,” Jack explains, turning so they can walk the remaining steps to the other two. “And I came from the rink, so I’m giving him a ride.”

“And the boyfriend?” Kent mutters.

“Came out for some social media stuff,” Jack tells him. Kent always forgets that the Falconers literally hired Bitty to up their image. He wonders if Jack and Bitty ever get sick of each other, living together and working together and being together all the fucking time.

Probably not.

Disgusting.

“Hi Kent!” Bitty greets. Kent is going to wait as long as he possibly can to tell Jack that he’s actually kind of fond of Bitty. They’ve met a few times, that awful kegster all those years ago being the first, and while the couple of meetings after that had been full of ice and _bless your heart_ s, he’s pretty sure Bitty’s cool with him now. Especially since he opens his arm for a hug, too. “We’ve got the guest room all set up for you,” Bitty tells him when he pulls back. “Jack’s been real excited for you to get here.”

“We both know you’re the one who set up the guest room,” Kent murmurs as they part.

Jack laughs from beside him. “It’s true,” he says, and Bitty smiles up at him fondly.

They’re everything that Kent wants, especially now that he’s been thinking more about what he envisions his future to be. It’s the worst.

“Kent Parson!” Mashkov says, leaning into the conversation like he’s been invited while Kent grabs his bag again.

They’ve never actually talked, other than the time Mashkov grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and growled something in unfairly attractive Russian, and that other time when he picked up Jack’s phone. So the excitement on his face is kind of overwhelming.

“Mashkov,” Kent greets.

Kent always forgets how fucking beautiful Mashkov is. There’s something fluid about him that has Kent’s eyes roaming, looking for a place to settle. Whether it’s on that one tuft of hair that always seems to be sticking up whenever they meet or the warmth that shines in his eyes like he’s happy to be standing across from Kent at all.

“I’m hoping is okay I come,” Mashkov says.

“We couldn’t let him wait in the car,” Bitty agrees.

“We haven’t had a week this hot in forever,” says Jack.

“Didn’t realize a professional hockey player couldn’t afford a car with air conditioning,” Kent quips, readjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Mashkov laughs, bright and loud. “Is not my fault your plane kept being later,” he responds, and Kent supposes that’s true.

But still he says, “Not my fault storms on the coast are a fucking nightmare.”

“Is true,” Mashkov agrees brightly.

The four of them start out of the airport and toward the parking lot and it’s so fucking hot outside. “I forgot about humidity,” Kent whines, climbing into the back of Jack’s car. He’d started going for the passenger seat before he saw Bitty make his way for it. “It’s like Satan’s ball sack here.”

“Georgia’s worse,” Bitty hums. “This is nothing.”

He starts yapping on about climate change and weather patterns while Kent sinks backwards into his seat. He hopes the whole trip isn’t like this. No offense to Jack’s people, but he’s not here to spend time with them. He’s here to spend time with Jack. Maybe talk out some godkid and future stuff if he can manage it.

They’re not even out of the airport parking lot when Mashkov turns to him.

“Kit’s okay?” Mashkov asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His eyebrows are furrowed and everything, and it’s not a look that Kent’s ever seen on his face. There’s been anger, and happiness usually as that’s Mashkov’s permanent state it seems, but concern? Something in Kent’s stomach turns in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. “Your cat,” Mashkov elaborates, like Kent doesn’t know who Kit is. “Been waiting for Tweeter but no post. I worry.”

“Oh.” Kent’s eyes dart to Bitty in the front who’s glancing over his shoulder _smirking_ because _what_ is his life right now. “Kit’s--yeah. She’s great. She’s fine. Allergic to something so I just ransacked my house for all of it.”

Relief floods Mashkov’s face like he _knows_ Kit, like Kit is his own goddamn cat, and it’s so fucking attractive that Kent literally grays out for a second. No fucking way is Kent going to let himself _seriously_ be attracted to Alexei Mashkov. Not happening.

“So happy to hear it,” Mashkov says, and he seriously means it. “If anything happen to Sobaka I not know what I do.”

Kent blinks. “Who’s… Sobaka?”

Mashkov’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You would know if you would follow back on Tweeter,” Mashkov says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He taps rapidly before finding a photo and turns out his screen so Bitty can see. “Sobaka’s my dog. We run together.”

“You do more than run together,” Bitty says with a little laugh.

“Yes,” Mashkov nods, turning his phone to Kent. Sobaka is a big, fluffy white dog that looks like she belongs in the snow. A Samoyed, Kent’s pretty sure. It’s probably got a thick coat and is dying in this heat. She’s beautiful. Whatever. “Sometimes we nap on couch.”

“When did you get a dog, Tater?” Jack asks, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “I thought you were just thinking about it!”

“You need Tweeter too,” Mashkov says with a chuckle, low and slow. He holds his phone back up and starts flipping through his photos before showing Kent another. It’s a live photo, so it moves a little, and _yeah_ that’s a beautiful dog. “Have her for a few weeks now. I miss home. She’s made for Russian winter. She make it not so bad.”

“How’s she handling the heat?” Bitty asks, echoing Kent’s earlier thoughts.

“My apartment very cold,” Mashkov says. “I keep like that for her. Need more blankets.” Jack laughs and even Kent feels his own lips twitch like he wants to smile. Relating to people via pets is easy enough to do. “Why you no bring Kit?”

“She doesn’t like flying,” Kent answers without missing a beat.

Mashkov’s responding laugh loosens something inside Kent’s chest.

* * *

He follows Mashkov back on Twitter.

* * *

Bitty makes himself busy for the first couple days of Kent being there. He’s here for a week and a half, so he’s gonna have to have some Jack/Bitty/Kent time _eventually_ , but it’s nice that he gives the two of them space to just be Jack and Kent.

Jack takes them on a couple of hikes in the Providence area because he’s trying to convince Kent that the east coast isn’t as ugly as he thinks, and Kent will never admit that the views are stunning. They go on runs and they eat a shit-ton of food from nearby diners and they ease into a familiarity that Kent’s been missing for all of these years.

“Alexei’s been asking Bitty about you,” Jack says. They’re at a different diner now, one that Bitty recommended, and the pie that Kent’s shoving into his mouth is nowhere near as good as the one that Bitty had waiting for him upon arrival. “He was wondering if we could give him your number.”

Kent frowns. “Why.”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t know how his mind works.”

Kent stabs at the pie again. “This isn’t as good as it could be,” he says, about the pie, because he doesn’t want to talk about Mashkov anymore. There’s something about him that makes Kent feel unsettled and he can’t figure out exactly what it is. No one's just  _that nice_. 

“He was thrilled when you followed him back on Twitter,” Jack carries on. He hasn’t even bothered to try the pie. Boyfriend-loyalty, and all that.

“I was being polite,” Kent says. Jack arches an eyebrow. “I can be polite.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Jack counters. He looks down at what Kent’s shoving into his mouth slowly. “Bitty’s got something in the oven for when we get back.”

Kent shoves his plate away without thinking about it. “He sure can bake.”

Jack beams. “He can.”

“You can give him number,” Kent says before he can think about it too hard.

Jack’s smile flickers. “Bitty has your number.”

“Mashkov.”

Jack’s smile returns. “So you can continue to be polite?” he asks. Kent rolls his eyes. “Alexei doesn’t have a lot of people. He’s just looking for connections, Kent. That’s all.”

“He came after me on the ice,” Kent reminds him.

“Yeah, after you plowed into our goalie,” Jack mutters. Kent smirks at the memory. “Shitty play, Parse.”

His smirk flickers with something playful. “Still counted,” he reminds him.

Jack rolls his eyes. “That was years ago.” Back when Jack was still a rookie. Back before they’d talked. “Sometimes people believe in second chances. I mean--you and Bits get along now.”

“Mostly.”

“I’m not going to give Tater your number if you’re going to be a dick to him.”

“Why doesn’t he have a lot of people?”

Jack grabs the fork that Kent dropped and takes the smallest bite from the pie on the plate between them. He wrinkles his nose after swallowing.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because I’m asking you.”

Kent isn’t sure why he cares, or why it matters. It’s not like he actually wants to be friends with Mashkov. He followed him back on Twitter mostly to see pictures of Sobaka, because _God_ that’s a beautiful dog. His timeline is now filled with a lot more positive energy than he’d been anticipating a single follow-back would do, but Mashkov’s big on social media and spreading good vibes. Lots of retweets.

But an accidental answering of the phone? A short ride from the airport home? A follow-back on Twitter? None of this constitutes friendship and Kent doesn’t think he has the energy to invest himself in a new person, especially one so far away. Maintaining a friendship with Jack is hard enough.

They pause their conversation when the waiter comes by with the bill and Kent pays for it as it’s his turn. They’ve been alternating.

“He’s far from home,” Jack says once the waiter’s gone. “Russia’s a while away.”

“What about your team?” Kent pushes. “Are those not Mashkov’s people?”

“I’m not giving him your number,” Jack says tiredly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “God forbid someone want to get to know you a little better, Kenny, huh? Not everyone’s got some grand ulterior motive.”

The waiter returns and Kent signs the bill before they slip out of their booth.

They’re in the car before Jack talks again.

“We should go to the rink,” Jack says.

Kent rests his hands over his stomach. “Now? You said Bitty had pie.”

Jack exhales a startled laugh. “No--tomorrow. I’ll bring Alexei. Bitty can play too--he’s been itching for it. Some guys from the team maybe. Just something low-key so we can get on the ice.”

Kent’s been itching to get back on the ice, too. It’s only been a few days but something about playing hockey eases the perpetual knot in Kent’s chest.

Even if he’s gotta play with Mashkov to do it.

“Sure,” Kent says. “Sounds fun.”

* * *

It is fun, actually.

The Aces get together on their time off to do stuff together, but it’s never as joyful as anything the Falconers do. People are actually excited to see Kent, to be playing with him, and there are a few older guys on Jack’s team that Kent’s happy to be playing with as well. It’s a surprise he’s not booed off the ice the moment he arrives, so he’ll take it.

The second his skates are on the ice, he exhales.

Things always make more sense here.

He laughs as Bitty practices a few jumps from his figure skating days murmuring something about how he’s getting out of shape (even though the execution is flawless), and he listens as Marty and Thirdy share stories of the good old days with some older names that leaves Kent quietly starstruck, and he even cheers when Jack scores a pretty impressive shot against whoever it is in the goal.

Mashkov skates over to him with an easy smile on his face. “You’re different man on ice,” he tells Kent.

Kent feels himself shuttering immediately. “I feel more like myself,” Kent tells him before he can get all of his doors closed.

“You play good, Kent Parson.”

“You’re okay,” he returns.

Mashkov’s laugh is so bright and startling it shakes something loose inside of Kent’s ribs again. “You’re funny,” Mashkov tells him. “Would not think so just by looking.” He skates backwards a little and even on the ice Mashkov is fluid. Forward, backwards, a mix of all of the brute hockey that Kent’s seen with the added grace of a figure skater. “No worries, I still have some tricks in shirt.”

Kent nearly smiles. “You mean up your sleeve?”

“Means same thing, yes?”

“Sure, Mashkov.”

He extends his stick, tapping Kent’s. “Are you thinking I’m bad guy?” Mashkov asks.

Kent frowns. “What?”

“From the game, years ago?” he pushes on. Mashkov wrinkles his nose before saying something in Russian that’s followed Kent around ever since Mashkov grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“No,” Kent admits. Even though that had been his excuse with Jack, Kent doesn’t really have feelings about Alexei Mashkov good _or_ bad.

“Should have thrown you across the ice.”

Kent laughs. “You could give it a try now.”

“You’re thinking I couldn’t?” Mashkov jeers.

Kent shakes his head a little, trying not to laugh. "I'm too fast for you." Alexei laughs a little. “It was a shitty play,” Kent tells him, changing the subject back. He knows it was bad hockey. He can admit that now that some time has passed. Mashkov lights up, eyes warm and smile bright. “Even if it counted.”

“Bad call,” Mashkov jeers.

“You all still took the cup that year,” Kent reminds him.

“And you in time since.” Kent can’t stop his smile now, but he does duck his head a little so Mashkov doesn’t get to see it. “Must be because of their captain.”

Kent laughs unexpectedly, his smile growing. “Or maybe the Aces are just better at hockey than the Falcs,” he offers.

“Ah, yes. Can't be captain, am remembering their captain make shit plays.” When Kent looks at him, wrinkling his nose, Mashkov laughs. “Even if counts.”

Kent hesitates but eventually says, “I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

“Am liking to hear that,” Mashkov say, grinning.

“You were defending your team. Jack,” Kent says, looking down at his stick.

“Zimmboni good friend,” Mashkov says warmly. “You know.”

“I do know,” Kent agrees quietly. He hesitates. "Why don't you think I am?" he asks. It doesn't make sense. Kent is clearly the one at fault here, so Alexei's apology has him confused. "A bad guy," Kent elaborates.

Alexei hums. "Maybe I do," he says. "Race you to net?" He takes off before Kent can answer, and Kent recovers with just enough time to overtake Mashkov and beat him to the goal. "So you are fast," Alexei says with a grin. "Good to know."

It's not the answer Kent wants, but it's probably the only answer Kent deserves. 

* * *

**Swoops  
** How do you feel about the name Petunia

 **Kent  
** it’s a flower

 **Swoops**  
That didn’t answer my question  
Elle hates it  
Are you on her side or mine

 **Kent  
** why do you like the name petunia 

 **Swoops  
** Girls are soft like flowers idfk

 **Kent**  
yea i’m on elle’s side  
petunia??  
so her friends can call her tuna????

 **Swoops  
** Fuck

* * *

“...and with Alexei joining us for dinner now I don’t think that…” the cadence of Bitty’s voice from the kitchen gets louder and softer as he calls out to Jack in a different room.

Kent, in his own room, pauses. He clambers off the edge of the mattress where he’s been perched, going through his emails on his laptop, and hurries into the kitchen.

“Did you say Mashkov’s coming over for dinner?” he asks.

Bitty, a mess from cooking, turns to him. “Yes, Kent,” he says tiredly. “Alexei’s coming and Jack gave me little warning.”

It’s the day after the rink and, with Jack having some stuff to do, Kent mostly kept to himself. His trip to Providence is half Jack time, half vacation. HBO has missed him. He’d spend most of his morning watching Big Little Lies, because Bitty had been on the phone with that goalie from the Sharks who used to be on his team, and it made Kent think of the coast, and it was a weird spiral of a day.

Swoops texting him was not helpful.

 **Swoops  
** How’s zimmermann

 **Kent**  
still looking perpetually tired  
but good

 **Swoops  
** And his blond boyfriend

 **Kent  
** still blond

 **Swoops  
** The Falcs?

 **Kent**  
annoyingly cool  
why don’t we ever do fun shit on the weekends with the team

 **Swoops  
** Because you can’t turn off your captain voice

 **Kent**  
whatever  
mashkov’s been around a lot  
he lives in jack’s building

 **Swoops  
** Is Russian your type?

 **Kent  
** don’t even start

 **Swoops**  
(;  
Get some parse

 **Kent**  
literally fuck off  
he’s not queer and i’m not here for sex

 **Swoops**  
He might be  
I didn’t know you were gay for a while  
A long while  
Very straight passing

 **Kent  
** yes please let’s talk about my straight privilege swoops

 **Swoops**  
Open your heart man  
Mashkov’s objectively hot

 **Kent  
** pass

“I’m _sorry_ , Bits,” Jack yells from the living room.

Bitty exhales slowly. “It’s okay, Sweetpea,” he says loudly. “Just next time--”

“It was last minute!” Jack cuts him off, hurrying into the kitchen past Kent as though he isn’t there. He strides forward and grabs Bitty’s hands right away. “Bits you _know_ I’m never going to do what I did for the picnic last spring.”

Bitty sags a little. “I know. It’s just with that blow-up at work today--”

“I can call him, Bits,” Jack cuts him off softly. “Honest.”

“No, no,” Bitty rushes. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all. But--you’re right,” Bitty finishes. “It’ll be lovely, Honey, I’m just being dramatic.”

“So he is coming,” Kent mutters from the entrance-way. He should’ve left the second Jack rushed in, to give them their privacy, but it’s like watching a fight on the ice. Can’t look away.

Jack tugs Bitty toward him, resting his chin on the top of his head while Bitty wraps his arms around him. They sway, turning so Jack can see Kent. “He had a rough day,” Jack finally answers. “Figured he needed people.”

“No cancelling,” Bitty murmurs against Jack’s shirt before pulling back. All of it’s so domestic, so familiar, that Kent can barely stand it. “One extra person is nothing,” he insists, resting his hands on Jack’s hips. “Even if it’s one massive hockey player who can swallow pieces of pie whole. I’ll just re-proportion.”

Jack laughs, dipping in for another forehead kiss. “Can I help, at least?” Jack asks.

“Entertain your guest,” Bitty says.

At least someone remembers that Kent’s here.

Jack looks up at him, his smile shifting into something warm. “Let’s go for a walk, Kenny,” Jack says, letting go of Bitty so he can get back to work.

* * *

They’re a quarter of the way into the trail when Kent figures he should say something.

“I’m glad you have Bitty,” he says.

Jack smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you two get along now.”

“He’s hard to dislike,” Kent admits. Bitty’s just such a genuinely good person. He wants the best for the people he cares about, no matter the cost to him. “Do you think you’ll marry him?” Kent asks.

Jack swallows. “I, uh.” He shrugs. “I want to.”

It feels like a punch to the stomach.

Not because Kent’s still in love with Jack. He’s not. He’s made his peace with how things went down. But Kent doesn’t _have_ that. He hasn’t _ever_ had anything like that. A person he thought he might want to marry. Someone to come home to at the end of the day other than Kit. A reason to have a dinner party. Two of his best friends have found their people and Kent’s still just… alone.

“That’s cool,” Kent says after a while.

“What about you?” Jack asks. “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

“Nah.”

“Are you looking?” Jack pushes.

Kent rolls his eyes. “You sound like Swoops,” he says.

How’s he supposed to tell Jack that he’s just not cut out for relationships? No one’s going to want to settle down with him, so there’s no point in looking. Kent’s life is going to be meaningless hook-up after meaningless hook-up until he dies. He’s known this for a long time, has started to accept it more the longer he thinks about it.

It’s hopelessly lonely that way, but it’s what Kent deserves.

It’s fine.

“Do you want that?” Jack asks. “To find someone?”

Kent wishes he was better at this.

“I don’t know,” he says. He shakes his head. This is _Jack_. Kent’s got to try. “I mean.” Jack slows down a little, turning to look at him. “I would. Want that. But it’s just not going to happen for me.”

Jack’s face hardens. “Why do you think that?”

Kent keeps walking, refusing to slow down for his friend. “Because it’s the truth.”

Jack reaches out to catch his shirt. “Kent,” he says sternly. Kent takes a deep breath and stops. “C’mon, Kenny,” Jack says, voice soft and strangely desperate. “That’s not true.”

“Might be.”

“That’s how I felt too,” Jack tries.

“We aren’t all just hand-delivered small blond bakers to adore us,” Kent mutters.

“It wasn’t always easy with me and Bitty,” Jack says, shaking his head. “We fought at first. Part of me hated him. And then--after the cup, all the drama there…” he trails off, looking sad. “But we’ve worked at it. Things like Bitty and I don’t just happen. You work at them.”

“I’ve got Kit,” Kent says, wishing this conversation was over. “She’s a lot to handle and--she’s all I need right now.”

“Kit is a _cat_ , Kent. You can’t--”

“I don’t want to do this,” Kent cuts him off.

He thought he was ready to talk about this, but he’s not.

Jack sighs. He turns, dragging a hand through his hair and tugging before turning back to Kent. “Fine,” Jack settles with. “Fine, but if you do--”

“I know, Zimms,” Kent stops him again.

But he really doesn’t want to do this.

Something in him is still aching, thinking of Jack and Bitty together, Jack and Bitty getting married, Jack and Bitty curling up in bed together at night.

A child, maybe. One day. A family.

Things Kent will never have.

The rest of their walk is tense.

* * *

Back in Jack’s apartment, the tension is broken the moment they walk inside. Mashkov and Bitty are in the kitchen laughing wildly at something that has them both in tears. A smile graces Jack’s face at once, something that makes him look softer and younger, and he quickly strides away while Kent kicks off his shoes.

“Zimmboni!” Mashkov cheers. “We not have drinks without you, promise.”

“Maybe a glass of wine or so,” Bitty agrees. “Kent!” he hollers. “Do you want red or white?”

“I’ve never had a red wine that didn’t make me immediately want to die,” Kent calls back.

“Um!” Mashkov ducks his head out of the kitchen, looking flushed and beautiful. “Problem we can solve. Hi Kent.”

“Mashkov,” he greets. He smiles, almost dazed. It makes Kent kind of want to smile too. “I don’t want red wine.”

“You’ve never had red Russian wine,” Mashkov says. “Is good, will change your mind.”

“Doubt it.”

“Dinner!” Bitty calls, bringing out a glass of white for Kent.

Dinner’s stupidly good. The food, the friendship, the wine. Two glasses in Kent feels like a version of himself that he’s always wanted to find but has never known where to start. There’s no anxiety sitting in his shoulder blades, no voice reminding him to frown and distance himself. It’s easy to lean back in his seat and smile along to the stories that everyone shares.

He loves his team, his own people and friends at home, but so often he feels himself pulling away from there. Being Captain makes it hard for Kent to really feel like a member of the team sometimes and the disengagement comes from that. Besides, he’s not entirely in everyone’s good graces yet, so it’s easier to not be present. Even with Swoops, sometimes. But here he carries no responsibilities, no reason to be anything other than completely himself.

Kent likes the idea of a soft future like this very much.

“Kent?” Bitty asks again, pulling Kent back to himself. “Did you want another glass?”

He hands Bitty his cup and returns to Mashkov’s story of his childhood in Russia, a winter skate on a lake. He’s talking about his mother and her title, the beauty in how she skates, and Kent thinks back to Mashkov on the ice. Both graceful and strong. When he mentions his father played hockey, it makes Kent smile to see how it is Mashkov’s style came to be.

He’s down another glass of wine before he knows it, and soon enough they’ve moved to the living room to keep talking. Jack and Bitty have settled on one couch and Kent and Mashkov are on the other, but the layout has it so Kent’s mostly just looking at Mashkov.

It’s not a bad view.

Mashkov tells stories with his hands, makes big motions as he talks. More than once he almost spills his wine and Bitty inhales sharply every time. He winks at Kent when he licks the rim of the glass as it spills, but it’s all in easy friendship.

“Will be better,” Mashkov insists to Bitty. “Promise.”

“It’s not like I haven’t removed your wine stains before,” Bitty says, sounding a little tired but also a little fond.

Kent doesn’t have this at home. He has Swoops and his wife (and soon their child, fuck) but it’s not the same.

When Kent drags himself back into the conversation, Mashkov’s smile has faded a little. He’s looking at Kent like he’s trying to understand something Kent hasn’t even said. “What?” Kent asks.

“What kind of thinking are you doing?” Mashkov asks.

Kent surprises himself by saying, “Do you have godparents?”

Mashkov looks surprised too. “I do!” He goes on to talk about how his mom was raised by some pretty intense Orthodox Catholics and they’ve kept some of the traditions, which isn’t exactly a shock to Kent but it’s interesting to hear about anyway. “Why is that your thinking?” he wonders.

“Are you close?”

Mashkov wrinkles his nose at the lack of an answer but looks amused anyway. “Enough,” he says. “We sometimes are writing letters. _Why_?” he asks again, dragging out the word like it’s part of a song, still smiling.

“I might be one,” Kent finally manages.

“Oh, Kent!” Bitty gasps. “That’s so exciting!”

“I said might,” Kent hurries, not wanting any more congratulations that he doesn’t deserve. “Swoops told me to think about it.”

“Aw, good for him,” Jack says with a smile. “Jeff having a kid. Damn.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But that’s still exciting,” Bitty says. “What do you think you’ll say?”

“Well it’s not--” Kent sighs. He pauses, lifting his hand and dragging it through his hair to try and clear his hazy thoughts. “It’s complicated,” he settles with.

Something flickers on Mashkov’s face that reminds Kent of that first day, in the car, when he was worried for Kit despite not knowing her. Only now it’s concern for Kent, liquid soft in his eyes, and Kent needs to change the subject.

“So these Catholic godparents of yours,” Kent says, returning the conversation back to Mashkov, and he ducks his head in gentle understanding. Mashkov doesn’t miss a beat as he dives into his next story, and it’s a good enough one that Kent’s actually paying attention instead of lingering on his own situation.

He shifts closer to Mashkov as the volume of his voice dips and Mashkov keeps talking, smiling as he does so like he’s figured something out Kent can’t be bothered to know. He can’t stop looking at Mashkov’s mouth, his soft lips as they curve around sounds that even after all these years his foreign tongue hasn’t completely mastered. He talks like he’s not sure he should be, his sentences almost unsure but still bright and every word thoughtful.

His stories from home sound so loving, so full of joy that Kent can’t imagine ever willingly leaving that to be alone.

“Why did you come to the states?” Kent asks suddenly, interrupting his story.

Mashkov blinks, his smile pulling upwards again. “Oh, well,” he laughs a little. “People think America will offer fame. Sometimes yes, but not like…” Mashkov gestures forward to Kent, reminding him who he is. A captain. A known name. A legend. He isn’t sure why the thought of that makes Kent’s face warm--he’s earned it, after all. “It was first opportunity,” Mashkov finally says. “Had to take it incase it was only one.”

“Do you regret it?” Kent asks.

Shock floods his face. “No! Of course no,” Mashkov rushes. “Have Falcs,” he says, looking over to Jack. “Best years of my life. Here becomes home. Even if…” he trails off again. “Even if home will always be home.”

“Will you stay?” Kent wonders.

Mashkov’s face shifts as he thinks about this. Hockey isn’t forever. People wear down, and anything could happen.

“Maybe,” he finally answers. “Depends on what might keep me.”

“What do you mean?”

“People,” Mashkov offers. “Can’t be with whoever I want back home. But if I’m not knowing anyone to keep me, no reason not to.”

Kent isn’t sure he understands. “Why can’t you be with whoever you want back home?”

“It’s illegal, Kent,” Mashkov says slowly.

He means men.

He means being with men.

“I didn’t realize,” Kent rushes, but Mashkov is smiling. Not like it’s funny, but like he’s happy this conversation is easy. “But if you don’t have a partner here,” he carries on, understanding, “you could find one at home?”

“I’m liking men and women,” he answers. “Just has to be right person. Would be easier to find woman in Russia. Could be happy.”

Kent’s heart is hammering in his chest. “Cool,” he finally says. Mashkov’s smile stays the same.

It’s not a secret that Kent’s gay. He rode Jack’s coattails because it was a hell of a lot easier to handle the snarls of _attention hog_ than to come out on his own accord and start that conversation by himself. A couple of other guys in the league did too. Was Mashkov one of them? Kent can’t remember.

But people _know_ about Kent. Everyone in the world of hockey knows that he’s gay. His float in Vegas Pride was all over Buzzfeed for forever.

Which means Mashkov knows. Which means this conversation might carry different weight.

“You wanting to stay in Vegas forever?” Mashkov asks, propping himself up against the couch so all of his attention is turned to Kent. Jack and Bitty have eased into a conversation of their own, and if Kent hadn’t already had so much wine he might think something more of it. But the conversation is easy enough to lean into and Kent kind of wants to talk to Mashkov until his lips are numb. “Is very warm there.”

“It’s dry heat,” Kent responds right away. Mashkov wrinkles his nose like he doesn’t know what that means, or maybe he doesn’t care. “It’s not so bad. I like Vegas. Do you like Providence?”

“Meh.” Mashkov shrugs. “Is okay. Lots of green, which I like. Vegas is… yellow.”

“The deserts are orange,” Kent corrects at Mashkov’s smile. “And the city is neon.”

Mashkov laughs. “I’m thinking neon is not a color?”

“All the signs are neon,” Kent says. Mashkov looks like he’d be content to look at Kent forever. “What’s so great about the color green?”

“Is healthy color,” he answers easily. Kent can’t stop his smile. He could look at Mashkov a while, too. “What’s so great about color orange?”

Kent thinks for a moment before shrugging. “Nothing.” Mashkov laughs again, just once, nice and loud. “There’s nothing great about the color orange. It’s beautiful but fuck it, am I right? You win, Mashkov.”

“Oh, so easy to beat you,” Mashkov chirps.

“I don’t care enough to argue it. Orange is a fine color, that’s all.”

“Gold, maybe good. But you’re having enough of that, not needing desert too.”

Kent’s lips part in surprise. “No such thing as too much gold,” he answers smoothly. It’s been a while since he’s had to actively flirt with someone, he forgot how much fun it is.

“Two cups not enough?” Mashkov teases.

“Cups aren’t gold,” Kent returns.

“Ah, that is true. Guess I am easy to beat also.”  

They hold one another’s gaze for a moment too long, leaving Kent just enough time to realize how totally fucked he is. All of this--the wine and the flirting and the talk about godkids and family has Kent feeling vulnerable. It has him wanting something he knows he can’t have and with Alexei _here_ \--

With Mashkov here it makes the lines Kent’s drawn for himself get crossed. Reality can easily bleed into fantasy and that’s all this is. That’s _all this is_ , a fantasy, and Kent _knows_ it.

He looks down at the glass of wine in his hand, trying to figure out something to say.

But he can’t, and Mashkov carries on the conversation when the silence stretches on for too long. “You’re not talking of when you were boy,” Mashkov says. “Was all bad?”

Kent snorts. Kent thinks back to his home, growing up alone. No siblings, busy parents. Things had always been so quiet.

“No. Not all bad,” he answers. “Just not like yours.”

Mashkov opens his mouth to say something but before he can, his phone rings. He leaps at once, eyes wide and worried. “Sorry,” he rushes, spinning to look at everyone in the room despite only having been talking to Kent. “I’ve--”

“Go, go,” Bitty shoos him toward the door. He makes an apologetic face at Kent before hurrying out of the apartment, answering the phone with quiet frantic Russian. Kent leans back on the couch, kind of… relieved.

Not that Mashkov’s got stuff going on, but things were starting to feel a bit too intimate for Kent’s liking.

“Family stuff?” Kent guesses.

Jack nods while Bitty leans further into him. “His dad’s in the hospital,” Jack says. “I’m not sure why, but Alexei’s been waiting on an update.”

Kent knocks back the rest of his wine. It’s nice that they invited him. A good distraction from what’s going on. He sits with Jack and Bitty for a little bit longer, but when Bitty says Mashkov texted he’s sorry for running but won’t be back, Kent calls it a night.

“I can help with dishes,” Kent insists as he stands. “Before I sleep.”

Bitty huffs, pushing him toward his room. “Oh, get out of here, Parson! You are a guest! And on vacation!”

“You should let him help, Bits,” Jack chirps.

“Enough of that,” Bitty says. “You can help me yourself, Mr. Zimmermann. I want to hear all about that contract George was telling you about.”

Kent tips his head to the side. “Contract?” he asks.

“Goodnight Kent,” Jack says, eyebrows raised, and Kent holds up his hands in defeat.

He stumbles off to bed, kinda drunk but feeling pretty warm, and wishes Kit was here. He misses his goddamn cat. Instead of sleeping, Kent flips through his text thread with his cat-sitter, looking at pictures of his sweet girl.

Once he runs out of pictures, he texts asking for another, and switches apps.

Kent ends up on Mashkov’s Twitter.

He’s favorited about six photos of Sobaka when he gets a text from an unknown number.

 **Unknown**  
You can come meet her you know!!!!  
Not just liking pics on tweeter

 **Kent  
** who the fuck is this

 **Unknown  
** Only person could be is whoever youre liking pics of

The next thing Kent receives is a photo of Mashkov and Sobaka together, Mashkov making a peace sign.

A laugh bursts out of Kent, loud and startling. He presses his lips together to stop his smile from lingering but the alcohol makes it hard, and the smile wins out. He holds his phone to his chest to keep from looking at it again, because he knows it’ll make him laugh again.

He only looks when his phone buzzes again.

 **Mashkov**  
Jack gave me your #  
Is okay?

 **Kent**  
it’s fine dude  
sorry about the twitter spam  
I miss my cat

 **Mashkov**  
Kit!!!!  
I miss kit too

 **Kent  
** you’ve never met her

 **Mashkov  
** Maybe one day

 **Kent  
** maybe

Kent’s fingers move on their own accord as they type up their next message, but he stares at it for a long time before he sends it. If anything, he can blame it on the alcohol.

 **Kent**  
hope everything’s okay at home

There’s a long time before he gets a response.

 **Mashkov  
** Is hard because I’m being so far from them. Cant take trip now with season but wish I could be there… just hard. Thank you kent

Kent’s chest pulls tight. He rolls on his side and stares at his phone, wishing that there was something more he could say. But it doesn’t feel like his place. Not yet--and maybe not ever. Still, hazy from wine and hopeful from such a soft night, Kent wishes for more.

 **Kent  
** do you want to talk?

A moment later, Kent’s phone buzzes in his hand, and then again, and again. Mashkov’s calling him. He almost doesn’t answer it. He shouldn’t answer it. He’s not going to answer it.

“Yeah?” Kent whispers. He doesn’t know why the idea of Jack or Bitty hearing him on the phone makes him nervous, but his stomach is in fucking knots.

“Like saying earlier,” Mashkov says right away, his voice warm and cadence familiar, “you’re having no good time from childhood?”

He exhales a laugh, closing his eyes. This is easy. “We took a trip to the Great Lakes once,” he tells Mashkov. “That was nice.”

“Zimmboni always wanting to take me there,” Mashkov says, his voice growing soft to match Kent’s. “Is beautiful?”

“It can be, yeah,” Kent answers. He waits before saying, “Very green.” Mashkov laughs quietly and Kent wants to lose himself in the sound of it. It could be so easy. “How’s Sobaka?”

“She’s taking all of my room up,” Mashkov says. “Greedy girl.”

“We could never share a bed,” Kent says, his tongue feeling heavy and his thoughts a few steps behind his mouth. “Kit and Sobaka would hog all of the space.”

“We just get second bed,” Mashkov tells him. “Trick them into thinking it’s ours. Have all the space to ourselves.” Kent wants it so badly he could cry. “Or bigger bed, maybe.”

Kent smiles. “Bigger bed, yeah. Always better to just make more room.”

“Hmm.” He hears Mashkov laugh, but Kent can’t be sure if it’s at him or at Sobaka. Kent waits for the quiet to settle in again. “Do you talk with your parents much?” he asks.

Kent tries not to sigh but he’s sure Mashkov hears it. “We check in,” he says. “They’re living comfortably. They come to some games. But not like I think you talk to yours, no.”

“When thinking family,” Mashkov wonders, “who comes to thoughts?”

“Jack,” Kent admits. “The Aces.” Swoops and Elle. There’s a pause. “Kit.”

He can hear the smile in Mashkov’s voice as he echoes, “Kit.”

The darkness of the room, the wine, it makes all of this feel like it’s not really happening. Maybe it’s not happening. Maybe he’s fallen asleep and this is all just a dream. He readjusts his phone to his ear. “What about you?” Kent asks.

“Jack,” Mashkov answers right away. Kent can’t stop his smile. “The Falcs.”

“Sobaka?” Kent wonders.

“Sobaka,” Mashkov agrees.

Mashkov starts to speak of Russia then, of his many sisters whom he loves very much. He talks about his favorite childhood dish, his favorite vacation spot from when he was young, the first time he got on the ice. He tells Kent about his family, the one who raised him, the one who loves him, the one who wants him to stay in America because it’s better for all of them that way.

He talks about dinners now, with Jack and Bitty and his team. Mashkov tells him about his favorite places in Providence, where the sun shines just a little differently. He yawns and Kent’s definitely going to fall asleep to the cadence of voice.

When Mashkov murmurs something in Russian, Kent blinks himself away. “Huh?”

“Said _goodnight_ , Kent,” Mashkov chirps warmly. “Seeing you soon.”

He falls asleep with his phone in his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Kent’s _not_ hungover from four glasses of wine.

No he is not. Absolutely not.

Kent’s sleeping in because he’s on vacation. That’s all.

* * *

When Kent wakes up and actually decides to get out of bed, it’s nearly noon. He’s got a slew of texts from Jack saying that he’s got a few meetings with people today and won’t be free until the evening, but Bitty’s around and the two of them should hang out.

Kent drags himself to the shower and scrubs life back into him. When he gets out, Bitty’s cooked up something to eat.

“You’re a fucking saint,” Kent says, dropping into one of the stools into the kitchen. Bitty hums, smiling, and serves him some more eggs. “If Jack doesn’t marry you I’ll throw my hat into the ring for your cooking alone.”

“I’m not even sure what part of that we should dissect first,” Bitty says with a laugh. It’s late, but Bitty eats too, and sharing a meal with his ex’s current partner has never been better. “When do you fly out again?” Bitty asks as they’re finishing up. “Tuesday?”

“Wednesday night,” Kent says.

It’s Sunday morning now, so there’s still some time, but Kent’s hyper-aware of the fact that he’s running out of time. His soft happy bubble in Providence isn’t _real_. Soon he’ll go back to Vegas, to the Aces, to nights with Kit and Netflix.

“I’m almost getting used to having you around,” Bitty says, snagging Kent’s now-empty plate before he can offer to clean up himself.

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to have Jack to yourself again,” Kent chirps.

Bitty hums innocently. “I think Alexei’ll be pretty upset too,” he says, loading the dishwasher.

Oh fuck. They were talking last night. Like. A lot. Maybe flirting.

“Probably not,” Kent says quickly. “We hardly--”

“Well, he’s got a lot of room in his heart,” Bitty says before Kent can come up with an excuse as to why Mashkov would miss him. Mashkov’s not going to _miss_ him. “You guys were chatting up a storm last night!”

Bitty doesn’t even know about the _phone call_. “It’s, that’s--”

“It’s okay,” Bitty says with a little laugh, looking up at him. “I think it’s sweet.”

Kent’s face is burning and he’s not entirely sure why. He almost feels ashamed. Without giving Bitty space to say anything else he hops off the stool and starts for his bedroom, quick to grab his phone and read through the texts from last night.

There aren’t any messages that he doesn’t remember sending, but thinking back to the whole conversation makes his chest feel hot. It was way too intimate. What the hell is Kent doing?

“Kent?” Bitty calls, following after him at a respectable difference. “You alright?”

“Just gonna lay down some more,” he murmurs. “Thanks for the food.”

He’s in bed about an hour before Bitty knocks, ducking his head in, and tells him that he’s gotta run. Kent takes his time flipping through various social media apps and responding to some texts from the team.

Not all are helpful.

 **Swoops  
** Daily check-in

 **Kent  
** well i’m still alive if that’s what you’re asking

 **Swoops**  
More or less  
Have you and Mashkov fucked yet

 **Kent  
** bye swoops

His cat-sitter sends him four new photos and a video, which shows Kit sprawled out on her back with her soft belly exposed.

Kent has his own way into the apartment, seeing as Bitty gave him their house code arrival, so once Kent’s sure his head’s not going to split in half he decides to go for a run just so he can get out of the house.

Of course he runs into Mashkov.

“Kent!” he shouts, voice filling every inch of the lobby. “Why you not come ten minutes earlier?” he asks with a laugh, rushing to Kent who’s itching to start sprinting already. He knows it’ll settle whatever it is that’s vibrating inside of him. “Sobaka was just here! Where you going?”

“You take her upstairs?” Kent asks, eyes darting to the elevator.

“Too hot for her. We run, then she go home and sleep. Then I run again.” Mashkov looks to Kent. “We can run together?” he asks.

He should say no. “Might be better if--” he starts, and Mashkov arches an eyebrow. Kent pauses. _He should say no._ “What did you have in mind?”

Mashkov grins.

“Come!” He throws his arm over Kent’s shoulder and guides him toward the door. “I know best trail, honest. Better than Zimmboni’s lame runs.”

Kent shrugs Mashkov’s arm off as casually as he can. He can’t let himself want that. “Can you keep up?” Kent asks.

Mashkov scoffs, but he’s smiling. “Me? Is you who needs to worry.”

“I’m pretty sure I won that race on the ice.”

“One race not meaning anything.”

Kent and Jack haven’t actually ran together since Kent got here, so it’s nice to have a partner. Mashkov’s faster than Kent was anticipating so there’s challenge in matching one another’s strides, laughter in the base of Kent’s throat whenever Mashkov tries to push past him as though he’s sneaking by.

It’s the most fun Kent’s had on a run in a long time and by the end of it, he feels good in a lot more way than one.

When they make it to the end, Kent can’t stop his smile.

“Ah, that looks good on you,” Mashkov says when he spots it. Kent can’t fight it even if he wants to. He ducks his head, shaking his head just a touch. “So is true. Kent Parson _can_ smile!”

“Shut up, Mashkov. I feel good. Sue me.”

Mashkov’s smiling too. “No, it’s good thing! Loving to see it.”

They say their goodbyes and Kent goes back to Jack’s to shower, but he’s still smiling.

* * *

Monday night, Kent ends up at dinner with Mashkov.

Just Mashkov.

Because Jack is _the worst_.

Jack’s got more contract things to work out (endorsements, Kent’s pretty sure), so he’s called out for a late meeting into the day last minute. It’s not a big deal. Kent decides to binge some Netflix and re-downloads Grindr as a distraction and is prepared for a night in.

 **Jack**  
I feel bad  
I said we would get dinner tonight

 **Kent**  
zimms it’s fine! we’ll do tomorrow  
tell nike their shoes ain’t shit

 **Jack  
** Nice guess

 **Kent  
** gatorade can suck your ass

 **Jack**  
Wrong again.  
I think maybe I can get out in time. Could you meet us there?

 **Kent  
** us?

 **Jack**  
Tater’s with me.   
If Bits is home drag him along.

Jack texts the address and the time and, finding it’s a bit fancier of a place, Kent rifles through his bag for something to wear. Bitty gets home just in time to get ready, so the two of them Lyft together, and Jack and Mashkov are waiting for them when they get there.

It’s something Kent could easily get used to.

“Did you get it?” Bitty asks as they approach, and the smile that lights up Jack’s face is answer enough. “Oh, Honey!” Bitty flings himself at Jack and they wrap themselves in one another. “I knew it!”

“What is it?” Kent asks, lingering back until Mashkov opens his arms as though he expects a hug. He holds Kent maybe a moment too long, but Kent drinks it in. “Both of you?”

“Separate deals,” Mashkov says as they pull back. “But some photo shoots together, yes?”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees with a laugh.

They swap places so Kent can hug Jack and Bitty can hug Mashkov before they take their seats. It’s an Under Armour deal, which is pretty cool, and it goes official in the morning but they’re celebrating tonight.

They’re halfway through their appetizers when Bitty gets a call and leaps out of his seat like he’s burned his hand on a pan. Jack looks on, worried, and Mashkov makes a puckered face before carrying on the conversation to ease the silence.

He returns, murmurs something to Jack, and then smiles apologetically. “It’s bakery business,” he tells them, which Kent doesn’t entirely understand seeing as Bitty doesn’t have a bakery that Kent’s aware of. “I’ve got to run. I’m so sorry, y’all.”

“Is okay,” Mashkov says easily. “We have big win, now you have big win.”

“I hope so,” Bitty says. “Ready, Jack?”

Jack looks up, eyes a little wide. “Bits,” he says. Bitty arches an eyebrow, and they have a conversation without saying anything at all. “You two should stay,” Jack finally says, turning to look at Kent and Mashkov. “I’ll leave my card. Please, celebrate for us.”

There’s a little bit of back and forth, awkward protesting, and then Kent and Mashkov are alone.

Kent is texting under the table.

 **Kent**  
fuuuuck you Jack  
bitty was fine to go on his own and we both know it  
this was a set up if i have ever seen one in my goddamn life

 **Jack  
** It was Bitty’s idea

 **Kent  
** fuck you too bitty

 **Jack  
** And it’s not a setup!

 **Kent  
** BULLSHIT

“I hope he gets it,” Mashkov says, and Kent looks up from his phone. “B. The bakery. They’re looking for space for so long now.”

Kent flips his phone so the screen is face down. He can be an adult about this even though he wants to smother Jack with a pillow in his sleep. This is manageable. Mashkov probably doesn’t even know that they’ve been set-up like this, so it’s fine. Kent just has to control himself.

This isn’t a date. Jack wouldn’t do that to him.

This just is awkward friend of my friend time and casual conversation. This is fine. Everything is fine. Kent’s an adult now. Nearly 29. Like, a real adult. He’s not even fucking around as much as he used to, either, which means that maybe this _could_ be a date. It’s not like Kent’s _opposed_ to dates.

Kent’s not spiraling.

“I didn’t know Bitty was looking to open a bakery,” Kent says.

“Oh, long time now. Long dream, but with Falcs there’s not much time.” Mashkov smiles sweetly. “You think he can’t do it?”

Kent huffs. “What?”

“You look…” Mashkov gestures to Kent’s face. “Not sure?”

“God help us all, if Bitty opens a bakery. Then we’ll have to pay for that shit instead of mooching it for free.”

Mashkov laughs. “Is true. Friends and family price help.”

“Maybe for you,” Kent responds, leaning into this. It’s fine. Mashkov’s easy to talk to, they can get through dinner. They had a 45 minute phone call the other day, anyway. It’s not like it’s not something Kent enjoys. “Bitty would never give that to me. He’d probably charge more.”

“Well, shipping so far costs more,” Mashkov argues. “Vegas a long flight. So makes sense.”

“It’s not that long,” Kent finds himself saying, almost like he’s trying to convince Mashkov it might be worth it. “It’s like, a movie and a nap. Or just a nap.” Mashkov smiles softly. “One bad night of sleep.”

“Do you like Vegas?” Mashkov asks.

“You already asked me that,” Kent reminds him.

“No, I asked if you would be staying forever.”

Kent shrugs. “It’s home, now.”

“Was not my question,” he asks.

Kent shakes his head, fighting a smile of his own. “It’s beautiful out there,” Kent says. They can talk about greens and oranges all they’d like but Kent will stand by his belief that Nevada is insanely wonderful. “The mountains and the deserts. The people are great. The weather--hell of a lot better than here.” Mashkov laughs. “I do like it, yeah. It’s home.”

“I’m liking that answer better,” Mashkov says.

“Do you like it there?”

“Hm? In Vegas?” Mashkov asks. He thinks. “I’m only going for hockey, never for adventure. So, only really know rink.” He nods thoughtfully. “Nice rink, though.”

The conversation is easy and Kent finds the outburst of anxiety in his stomach disappearing throughout the night. They drink wine (Mashkov orders him a nice Russian red, which is actually pretty good) and laugh at hockey jokes and share looks that Kent refuses to think about for even a second longer.

If this is a date, it’s a pretty good one.

But it’s not a date.

“You ever thinking to settle down?” Mashkov asks. “Have family?”

It might be a date.

“I don’t know,” Kent admits. Mashkov props his elbow up on the table and leans into his hand, waiting for a better answer. Kent thinks back to his walk with Jack, thinks back to the idea of Jack and Bitty getting married, and feels an ache in his chest immediately. He knows he has to be honest. “One day, I hope.” He tries to make it light by adding, “I’m getting old. Gotta stop fucking around.”

Mashkov laughs a little but he doesn’t take the bait. It’s true, though. A person can only have so many sloppy hook-ups before getting tired of the whole thing. There’s nothing enjoyable about fleeting intimacy, and lately it’s been making Kent ache more often than not.

He _does_ have to stop fucking around. Especially if he wants to settle down one day. Which he does.

But.

“Hockey’s not lasting forever,” Mashkov says.

“I know.” Kent picks up his glass to take a drink. “I mean I look at Jack and Bitty,” Kent starts, but he can’t finish the sentence.

Still, Mashkov nods. “I’m knowing what you mean.”

Kent’s mouth quirks to the side. “They’re sweet,” he says. Mashkov smiles in agreement, but there’s something blue clutching Kent’s stomach. Why can’t he just smile back? “I want to be the godfather to Swoops’ kid,” Kent murmurs. “But I don’t think I can.”

His stomach clenches when Mashkov reaches across the table, resting his hand atop Kent’s. “Why not?”

Kent looks up, and it’s the look of total understanding in Mashkov’s eyes that eases him over everything else. Not the alcohol, not the soft brush of his thumb over Kent’s, but the light in his eyes that feels real.

“I’m never gonna have what Jack and Bitty have,” Kent tells him.

“No, you’ll have what Kent and whoever have,” Mashkov says. “Can’t have Jack and B because Jack and B already having that.”

“You don’t understand,” Kent tries. “I won’t have that with anyone.” It’s what he was trying to tell Swoops, trying to tell Jack. Kent pulls his hand back, out of Mashkov’s grip, and shrugs and nonchalantly as he can. He thinks back to their conversation on the ice. “I’m shit, Mashkov. I’m _not_ a good guy, and no one--”

“Pfft,” Mashkov stops him. “Why you thinking that?”

“That I’m shit?” Kent echoes, his voice a touch sharp. “C’mon, man.”

Kent’s cruel. He knows what to say to make people hurt. With a rush of guilt he thinks past the ice, to that kegster from all those years ago, and the horrible things he said to Jack because he knew it would break him.

“I’m not wanting to fight, Kent,” Mashkov says quietly. “I’m just not thinking is true.”

“Well then you don’t know me at all,” Kent mutters. He waves over the waitress and asks for the check while Mashkov sinks backwards in his seat.

Mashkov doesn’t say anything as they get the okay to leave, seeing as Jack left his card, and Kent grabs it to take it back for him. They call a Lyft since both of them have been drinking and Mashkov had ridden in Jack’s car anyway, and that ride is pretty quiet too.

When they finally get to the elevator in Jack’s building, they stick to different sides.

When the doors ding open, Mashkov lingers.

“Tonight was nice,” Kent says, hoping to hurry this along.

Mashkov smiles, like the tension from moments earlier had never even existed. “I’m having fun knowing you, Kent,” he says.

Kent’s cheeks burn. “I’ll see you,” he murmurs.

“Ah, ah,” Mashkov waits in the doorway. “You’re coming too.”

Kent frowns, looking up at him. “Asking me in for a night cap?”

“I’m knowing that reference,” Mashkov says with a laugh. “And no. But is time to meet Sobaka, yes?”

The elevator dings angrily, the doors wanting to close. Kent really does want to meet that dog. It’s not like he’s too eager to get back to Jack and Bitty and have them not-so-subtly grill him on dinner with Alexei.

“Fine,” Kent says. But not too long, because he can’t start talking about being worthless again. “Ten minutes.”

Mashkov beams. “Sure, sure.” Kent steps off the elevator and the doors snap shut quickly, leaving him to follow Mashkov down the hallway. “Remember,” he says, turning to Kent as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “Is cold.” He pushes open the door and Kent’s hit by a blast of ice. Mashkov’s apartment is fucking _freezing_. The second Kent steps inside he shivers and Mashkov grins, eyebrows high on his forehead. “I warn you, no?”

“Jesus.”

“All for Sobaka,” Mashkov says. He whistles and then a moment later that giant pup appears, happily running down the hallway toward Mashkov. He crouches to greet his dog who is wildly licking his face. “Yes, is good to see you too,” Mashkov says with a laugh.

He scratches Sobaka behind the ears and looks over his shoulder to Kent, beaming.

“She’s a beaut,” Kent says. It makes Kent miss Kit more than he already did. “Does Sobaka mean something?” Kent finds himself asking as he steps forward to greet the dog himself. “In Russian.”

Mashkov smiles like he’s guilty. “Yes.”

Sobaka switches gears immediately and wiggles her whole body in excitement as he crouches down to pet her.

“Do I have to Google it?” Kent asks. “Or are you gonna tell me?”

Mashkov ducks his head. “Means dog.”

Kent’s lips part and he pauses mid pet, his hand halfway down Sobaka’s back. “Sobaka means dog,” Kent repeats, needing confirmation, and Mashkov laughs. “You’re fucking with me because I don’t know Russian.”

“Russian’s not hard to learn,” Mashkov says, still grinning. Which is bullshit. Russian is _so_ fucking hard to learn. Like, he’s pretty sure when it comes to languages that are fake, Russian’s near the top. “But it does mean dog. You can Google.”

Kent moves back to a standing position and digs his phone out of his pocket to search it quickly and--

He looks down at Mashkov who has been crouched this whole time. “Tell you so,” Mashkov says proudly.

Kent slips his phone back into his pocket. “I should go,” he says.

It’s been a long time since Kent’s wanted to kiss someone. Like, a real, proper kiss. Making out in dirty bathrooms and empty elevators before meaningless hookups doesn’t count. But suddenly and urgently, the desire to kiss Mashkov consumes him. It makes his entire face burn, like what he wants to do is written across it for Mashkov to see.  

“Kent,” Mashkov murmurs, springing to his feet. “Wait.” He reaches out, tangling his finger’s with Kent’s before he can get too far, and Kent freezes. Sobaka settles down at once and Kent’s eyes dart to her, too afraid to look up. “I’m not knowing how to have this conversation,” Mashkov says, voice a pitch higher than normal, almost afraid but still with a breath of a laugh.

“Mash--”

“Alexei,” he cuts him off. “Please.” Kent feels like something is lodged in his throat. His eyes shift, lingering where their fingers are laced together. “You say I’m not knowing you but I’m not thinking that’s true.”

“It is,” Kent rasps.

“You say you not good man but--Swoops want you to be godfather, no? And Jack have you come all the way here to spend time together. That says much.” He smiles a little. “Even B change his mind about you.” Kent starts to shake his head but Mashkov-- _Alexei_ just keeps going. “Maybe I’m not knowing everything, but I’m liking what you give me so far. When you talk of Vegas, or family, or Kit. Am I feeling wrong?”

“You’re just going to be disappointed,” Kent forces out, but Alexei shakes his head like he’s sure. “I’m not good at this.”

“At what?” With his free hand, Alexei reaches out, nudging Kent’s chin up enough that his eyes move too. “Talking?” he wonders. “You great at that. We talk on phone for hours.”

Kent swallows. “It was not _hours_ ,” he manages.

“Ah, could’ve been. But you had too much wine and went falling asleep.”

“You don’t understand,” Kent tries again. “I _like_ you, I can’t--”

Alexei takes a step closer, cutting him off. “You like me?” he echoes, smiling softly. “So am not feeling wrong?”

“I’m gonna fuck this up,” Kent says, needing Alexei to just fucking hear him already. “I can’t do _this_ , I never have.”

But still, Alexei softens. “And what’s this, Kent?”

Late night phone calls and genuine concern and lingering looks and a warmth that Kent hasn’t felt in a very long time, blooming in his chest every time Alexei smiles at him. Easy conversations and surprising laughter. The desire, for the first time in a very long time, for something more.

Kent’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

When Alexei kisses him, Kent decides that Providence is just a dream, a tease of the future that he can never really have. He kisses Alexei back like he can have it anyway, like he can love and be loved by a man who is strong and loud and warm, kind and genuine, too good him. He lets Alexei cradle his face between his hands and brush his thumbs along Kent’s jawline like he’s precious.

Kent slides his hands around Alexei’s hips and tugs, pulling him as close as he can, and Alexei huffs a laugh against Kent’s mouth.

“Is okay?” Alexei asks, and Kent nods into it. “You _like_ me?”

“Shut up.”

Alexei laughs into the next kiss and there’s something so stupidly soft about it that Kent nearly groans.

But that’s the thing--he _does_ like Alexei. It doesn’t matter that it’s barely been a week, Kent hasn’t felt a connection like this with someone since--

Since Jack.

But he was a kid then, and his problems were smaller, different. Jack was who Kent needed then, and then Jack left. And since then it’s been fling after fling, desperate for something with substance but too afraid to look for it. And then Alexei appeared and he cared about Kit and he cared about _Kent_ and there was no secret, hidden ulterior motive about it.

“Where’s your--” Kent pulls back in a breath, glancing over his shoulder to find Alexei’s bedroom.

Alexei tangles their fingers together and pulls him backwards with a laugh. Sobaka barks and Alexei huffs. “Baka, РЯДОМ!” She whines but settles down, and when the get to Alexei’s room he kicks the door shut without closing it all the way.

“What’d you say?” Kent asks as he kicks off his shoes.

“Telling her to stay,” Alexei says. “She really is greedy beg hogger. Can come in later.”

Kent huffs out a laugh before he huffs, bracing himself on Alexei’s shoulders. As if knowing what Kent wants, he adjusts his stance and pulls him in while Kent springs up into his arms. “Too many syllables,” Kent murmurs, winding his legs around Alexei’s waist. Alexei rolls his eyes but he’s smiling and he’s still kissing Kent so he can’t be _that_ annoyed. Kent hasn’t kissed anyone like this in a long time, half desperate for it.

Alexei cradles him carefully, hands firm and steady against Kent’s back, and takes the few remaining steps to his bed. He falls to his knees and presses Kent down like he’s done it before, like he knows how to do this and always has, while Kent falls backwards with a sigh, his legs falling from Alexei’s hips.

Alexei kisses him through it, sliding his tongue between his lips again and again until Kent’s almost whining.

Kent doesn’t think he’s ever been touched so gently. Alexei’s hands are sure but there’s no force here. His body doesn’t know how to react and he ends up fisting the sheets, clenching his jaw to keep from moaning. Alexei mouths his way across Kent’s neck before peeling back to look at him.

“Is too much?” Alexei asks.

 _Yes_ , Kent thinks wildly. He’s never felt like this before, like there’s fire beneath his skin and he needs to set the world ablaze. But instead he hooks his leg back over Alexei’s hip and tugs him down, grinding forward just enough for some good friction.

“Mmf,” Alexei groans. “Even kiss dirty, huh?”

“Old habits die hard,” Kent breathes out.

Alexei laughs and it’s so fucking good, all of this is so good. It’s been a while since Kent’s had this much fun kissing and he knows it’s because he actually _likes_ Alexei.

They just make out.

They shed more of their clothes, but they’re never fully undressed. Kissing is enough. Kent never thought he’d think that, but it really is. He bites Alexei’s bottom lip and Alexei moans hot enough that Kent’s hips roll and he sucks marks onto Alexei’s throat.

Kent has no idea how long they do this, this steady push and pull, but suddenly he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Tired?” Alexei asks between kisses.

“Mm.” Alexei smiles, coaxing another kiss from Kent like it’s his job to do it. “Too much wine, I think.”

“Was good wine though, yes?” Kent kisses Alexei back instead of answering. “Seems wine always making you sleepy.”

“Seems so,” Kent agrees.

“You should stay,” Alexei murmurs, sliding his fingers into Kent’s hair. “Too late to go alone. And being sleepy not helping.”

Kent snorts. All he’s gotta do is get on the elevator, or take the stairs. But still, he doesn’t move, and the smug smile on Alexei’s face is worth it.

“Might get lost,” Kent agrees.

He leans in to steal another kiss. “Very dangerous.” Kent indulges for only a moment before pulling back. He shouldn’t be indulging himself at all. He doesn’t get to keep this. But he can give himself tonight. “Hm?”

“I’ll stay,” Kent says.

Alexei’s smile eases into something helplessly soft, like he didn’t think Kent would say yes.

* * *

It might be different if Kent had woken in a another manner.

But it’s cold. His eyes snap open around 7 and he’s wide awake. There’s no soft sunlight streaming in, the curtains are mostly drawn, and even past them it seems to be gray. He isn’t pulled from sleep gently.

He’s cold and awake and Alexei is still asleep beside him, peaceful and warm and impossible.

Kent needs to go. Now. Before Alexei wakes up and coaxes him back to bed.

Alexei’s wrapped around him but years of casual hook-ups have given Kent the ability to expertly pry himself from someone without waking them. It’s a lot harder than he expects it to be, but not because of the angle or anything.

Just because he wants to stay.

Kent ignores Sobaka’s side-eye from the foot of the bed where she settled after they passed out. He grabs his pants from the floor and snags his shirt and gets dressed, quickly, in the hallway of his apartment so the noise doesn’t wake Alexei.

He sneaks out without a goodbye.

Kent takes the stairs because he needs to clear his head, and he’s worried if he waits for the elevator Alexei’ll wake up and realize he slipped out and come looking. Or maybe he won’t, which might be worse.

 _It’s not worse_ , Kent thinks as he races up the steps, two at a time. It’d be better. Maybe Alexei got what he wanted from Kent last night and that’s it. That’s all it should be, anyway.

When Kent gets to Jack’s he punches the code into the door and tries to enter as quietly as he can, hoping Jack and Bitty are still asleep. But when he closes the door and the quiet settles, he can hear them in the kitchen.

“Kent?” Jack calls. “That you?” He ducks his head out to see him and Kent leans back against the door with a frown. “Good morning,” Jack greets slowly.

Kent blinks a few times. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Bitty’s head pops out next. “I’ve got breakfast, if you want some!” he says.

“No.”

“You don’t look like you slept much,” Bitty comments.

Kent pushes himself away from the door and starts for his room. “Hence me going back to bed,” he says.

“Have a nice night?” Jack wonders as Kent walks past.

“I think I’m allergic to dogs,” Kent mutters.

Jack snorts. “You are not. Your family had one growing up.”

“I hate you guys,” Kent grumbles, marching past them to his bedroom. “It’s so fucking early. Why aren’t you still asleep?”

“Not all of us are on vacation, Parson,” Bitty chirps.

Kent hasn’t even reached the door handle of his room when he feels a presence following him, and instead of being as petualant as he wants to and shutting the door in Jack’s face, he lets him follow him in. Jack shuts the door behind him gently while Kent settles on the edge of the mattress.

“Nothing happened,” Kent says, staring at the carpet. Jack tips his head to the side. “We made out. But nothing else happened.”

“Did you have fun?” Jack asks. Kent kicks off his shoes in response. “Kenny,” he says quietly.

“I need more sleep,” Kent says.

Jack sighs but nods. “Bits and I have some stuff to do this morning so we won’t be back until later.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Kent--”

He can’t let Jack think his friend sucks.

“It was fine, Jack,” Kent stops him tiredly. “It was nice, okay? Alexei’s. Yeah.”

When Kent says _Alexei_ a smile blooms on Jack’s face. “Okay. Get some sleep. Text me if you need anything. Bitty’ll leave something in the fridge.”

Jack leaves Kent alone and he climbs into bed, pulling the covers around himself. This apartment isn’t nearly as cold, but the bed isn’t as comfortable. And when he rolls on his side to look to where Alexei was sleeping, it’s empty.

Kent wishes he could’ve stayed.

* * *

It takes Kent a while to fall back asleep, but once Jack and Bitty leave the apartment is quiet so that helps. Kent finally gets out of bed closer to 9, and true to Jack’s word there’s food in the fridge for Kent to heat up. He pads around the apartment for a bit as he eats before he settles back down on his bed.

What the hell is he supposed to do now?

There’s an itch beneath his skin telling him to go for a run. Maybe it’ll settle things down. But the thought of running into Alexei in the lobby keeps him in bed, even though the gray morning has eased back into blue.

He decides to text Swoops.

 **Kent**  
so i made out with mashkov  
like a lot

He doesn’t expect Swoops to answer, because time zones, but his phone buzzes almost immediately.

 **Swoops**  
HELL YEAH PARSE   
I goddamn knew that russian was your type  
How was it

 **Kent  
** literally what the fuck am i doing

His phone rings a second later and Kent exhales deeply before pressing the ignore button. It rings again a second later.

“What, Jeff?” he snaps.

“I can’t believe you fucking sent me to voicemail,” Swoops answers.

“Oh? You can’t believe that? Really?”

“You’re spiraling, dude.”

“I’m totally fucking spiraling,” Kent agrees, mostly a gasp. He closes his eyes tightly and pinches the bridge of his nose. He takes a breath. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’ve hooked up with hockey players before,” Swoops says in a voice that’s meant to be calming. He sounds half-asleep. “It’s alright, Kent, no--”

“It’s different,” Kent stops him. “I…” he trails off, swallows. “It’s different.”

“You like him,” Swoops says. “No way, Kent, are you shitting me?”

“I don’t know how it happened.”

Yes he does. It was a lot of scheming on Jack and Bitty’s part. But it’s not like they had to do a lot of work, seeing as Alexei Mashkov is fucking Alexei Mashkov--beautiful and good natured and--

Swoops lets out a long whistle. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” he asks, and when Kent doesn’t respond he hears Swoops sigh. “Shit, man. When are you coming home again?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

There’s a knock on the front door. The only reason Kent hears it is because he’s left his bedroom door open. With Jack and Bitty gone he didn’t feel the need to close it.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“Hell no, dude. This is all you.”

The knock grows more persistent.

“I’m just in my head,” Kent tries to reason. “I think about you and Elle and see Jack with Bitty and then he’s here fucking flirting with me and--” the knock is louder. “Fuck! Hold on!” Kent flings himself out of bed, marching through the apartment. “Someone’s at the fucking--”

He yanks the door open and of course it’s Alexei.

Why did he not look through the fucking peep hole?

“Jeff I gotta go,” Kent rushes, hanging up before he can get a response. Alexei’s eyebrows slowly rise on his forehead as Kent lowers his phone. “Hi,” he greets.

“Hi,” Alexei says slowly, dragging out the word. Alexei’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Is nice to see you,” he says, sounding only a little teasing.

“Alexei--”

“Can I come in?” he asks, moving forward before Kent can even answer. Once Alexei’s in the apartment, Kent shuts the door with a sigh. He should’ve waited to make out with the guy right before he left so he wouldn’t have to _do_ this. Fucking feelings. “Finding this on my floor this morning…” Alexei says, pulling out Kent’s wallet and offering it over to him. “But no Kent, so…”

“Alexei,” he tries again.

But Kent doesn’t actually know what to say. So he just takes the wallet and stands there, quietly.

“No Jack and B?” Alexei asks, turning to look around the apartment.

“They had stuff to do.”

“Maybe we can go get breakfast,” Alexei says, turning back to him.

“I already ate.”

“Lunch, then.” Kent’s eyebrows pull together and he looks down toward the ground. Can’t the guy just take a hint? “Not liking that face,” Alexei murmurs, wrinkling his nose.

Kent takes a deep breath. He’s got to get this over with.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Kent says.

“I’m thinking you might say that.”

Kent shakes his head. “You’re acting like this is something simple,” he says. Kent takes another breath to collect his thoughts before he turns, setting his wallet down on the table near the door to grab later. “It’s not. I leave tomorrow night. We’ve got our careers. It’s just--” he swallows. “This isn’t going to work.”

Alexei reaches out for his hands. “You trying to make everything difficult,” he tells Kent, lacing their fingers together. “I’m knowing you have phone.” Alexei squeezes. “If I’m calling home every week and still talking with family in Russia even though time is hard, why not us?”

“And what happens when that’s not enough?”

Alexei leans in, smiling. “Then I come to Vegas.”

“You hate Vegas,” Kent says, but it’s barely a breath.

This can’t be happening. Alexei doesn’t really want to _try,_ does he?

He throws his head back in a laugh. “Is that what you’re thinking I said?” Alexei asks.

“Too hot,” Kent murmurs.

Alexei kisses him gently and all fears fly out of Kent in an instant.

“I like orange,” Alexei says softly. Kent reaches up before Alexei can get too far and tugs him in for another. “Want to meet your cat,” he murmurs against Kent’s mouth.

“I don’t think she gets along with dogs,” Kent mutters.

Alexei laughs again and Kent wants all of his kisses to be like this, full of easy joy. “She will. Sobaka gets along with everyone,” Alexei hums. “We make more room on bed.”

Kent wants to lose himself in the fantasy of it. Or rather--the idea that it’s not a fantasy completely. That it’s possible.

“I don’t know when they’ll be back,” Kent says.

Alexei blinks. “Who?”

“Jack and Bitty.”

“Oh. Right.”

“This is their apartment,” Kent reminds him.

Alexei kisses him another time. “I’m knowing that already, Kent,” he teases. “Was here when you first call Jack. About Kit.”

Kent rears back. “Yeah?” he asks.

“B was making video,” Alexei tells him with a nod. “Hands covering in jam. Jack in shower. So I answer phone. Have me all worrying about a cat I’m not even knowing yet.”

Kent feels something hopeful bubble up in his chest. He feels all kinds of warm and it’s terrifying, but he never wants to feel another way.

“I want to try,” Kent says, before he loses the nerve. “This.” He swallow. “Us. I want to know you more.”

Alexei reaches up with one hand to frame Kent’s face, his thumb gentle as he strokes along his jaw with a nod. “Me too,” Alexei tells him.

* * *

When Jack and Bitty get back a few hours later, Kent and Alexei are on the couch watching some Danish show on Netflix. Alexei’s arm is draped around his shoulder, his fingers effortlessly teasing the ends of his hair, and Kent tenses the moment he hears the door unlock.

“Kent?” Bitty calls into the apartment the moment the door’s open. “We were thinking of going--oh!” he stops when he spots him and Alexei together. “Hi Alexei! I wasn’t expecting to see you!”

Alexei tugs Kent a touch closer as though reminding him to exhale.

“Hi B,” Alexei greets with a smile.

“We were thinking of going somewhere new for dinner, I was saying,” Bitty says. Jack’s a few steps behind him and the smile on his face when he sees Kent and Alexei is actually what settles something in Kent. He smiles back, ducking his head, before looking back to the TV. Alexei’s still teasing his hair. “Maybe we could all go?”

“Only if you’re not abandoning us this time,” Alexei says with a laugh.

Bitty hums. “Seems like it turned out okay the last time,” he says, starting for the kitchen.

Jack joins them on the couch and asks about what they’re watching, but Kent’s still pretty tense. He keeps his mouth shut until Jack realizes he’s not going to contribute to the conversation, and then he joins Bitty in the kitchen.

With the hand that’s not already around him, Alexei reaches over and squeezes Kent’s knee. “Forgetting how to speak?” Alexei murmurs.

“What do we tell them?” Kent grits out.

“About?” Alexei asks. Kent looks up, eyebrows already drawn together, and Alexei leans in quickly to kiss him. “Hmm? Relax, Kenny.” Kent reaches up and drags Alexei in before he can get too far away. Alexei smiles into the next kiss while Kent’s heart somersaults again and again. There’s something about _Kenny_ that makes him go soft. “They’re already knowing I’m liking you,” he says when they part. “Is no big deal.”

It _feels_ like a big deal, Kent wants to say.

But Alexei already knows that’s how Kent feels so it doesn’t do any of them any good to bring it up again. It’s still just--

Jack.

* * *

Kent has no fucking idea where they are, but the building they’re standing outside of doesn’t have any lights on and doesn’t seem like a real restaurant. All four of them are on the sidewalk outside, staring up at it.

“Welp,” Bitty says. “Let’s go in!”

Alexei lights up and follows Bitty inside without hesitation, but Kent lingers back and grabs Jack’s arm to keep him from going inside.

Jack turns to him.

It’s been a long afternoon. Kent eased more into himself as the afternoon went on but there was still something in the air that didn’t feel settled. But they’d been with Bitty and Alexei and every time Kent and Jack would look at each other there was a new tension that couldn’t be put into words.

They’ve got to do this now, the first moment they get alone since Kent and Alexei decided to go forward with this.

“So Alexei,” Jack starts, knowing why Kent’s keeping him, and Kent ducks his head.

“So Alexei,” Kent returns. “We’re gonna try and make it work.” Jack nods. A few moments pass before Kent can’t take the silence. “Is that okay?”

“I don’t care what you do, Kent.”

“Jack.” Kent finally looks up. He wishes he wasn’t so afraid of all of this. He feels young again, back in juniors, like he’s still trying to fit into his body and figure out how to use it properly on the ice. “Can I tell him about us?”

Jack’s face floods with shock. “Of course you can tell him. I’m sure he must--” there are rumors, sure, but Kent didn’t know if Jack had told him. “That’s not just a me thing, that’s both of us. I’d never expect you to keep that from--from anyone you end up with.”

“Does it ruin it?” Kent whispers.

Jack and Kent’s history, could it fuck up things with Alexei? Or being with Alexei, could that ruin this still-new friendship he’s rebuilding with Jack?

Jack reaches out, resting his hand on Kent’s shoulder. “Nothing’s ruined,” he tells him, and Kent believes him. “I care about you a lot, Kent,” Jack tells him quietly, “and I care about Alexei too. I want you both happy.”

“It’s. I just.” The lights inside the building flicker on and Kent turns, trying to see through whatever’s covering the windows. Kent sighs, dragging his hands through his hair and turning away from the building. “I’m gonna fuck this up, Jack.”

“Fuck what up?” Jack asks. “Alexei didn’t ask you to marry him, he asked to see where things go. Eh?”

“Yeah.”

“So breathe.” Jack reaches up, resting his hand on Kent’s shoulder. “The world doesn’t end if it doesn’t work out.”

Kent exhales. He’s right. Kent hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time, he shouldn’t act as though whatever happens with Alexei is the end all be all.

Even if he really does want to see where it goes.

“I’ve never done distance,” Kent says.

“I have,” Jack tells him.

“Not as far.”

“No, not as far,” Jack agrees.

“I’ve never really dated _anyone_ ,” Kent amends. Even what he and Jack had all those years ago didn’t really constitute as dating. “And I like him.”

“Kent,” Jack says softly. “Then that should be all that matters.” Not the distance, or the lack of having done this before, but that he wants to make it work. "Just go from there."

Kent shrugs Jack’s hand off of him with a sigh. “Yeah.” Maybe, just maybe, this’ll all turn out okay. He looks back toward the building. “We can go in now.”

Jack lights up with a smile. “You sure?” Kent nods, and Jack guides him inside.

The place is empty. Like, completely empty. No tables, no chairs, no people other than Alexei and Bitty who are looking up and around.

Alexei turns to Kent when they reach them, his hand easily finding Kent’s. Kent’s still getting used to the casual intimacy but he can’t say that he hates it. “Is B’s new bakery!”

Kent stops walking. “What? You got that place?”

“We got that place!” Bitty bursts. He opens his arms wide and spins around, still looking up at the ceiling. “This is it!” Kent pauses, blinking, looking around the space. It’s dim, the lighting isn’t the best, but there’s so much room for potential Kent can see it in every inch. Big windows in the front, lots of space for seating. “I’m absolutely obsessed,” Bitty says, still sounding like he’s in awe.

“If I try enough,” Alexei says, twisting his fingers with Kent’s, “I’m almost smelling pie.”

Bitty laughs brightly, looking at him. “We brought a couple,” he admits.

“Soon will be _hundreds_ ,” Alexei carries on. “A billion pies.”

Bitty starts elaborately explaining his plan for the space, part bakery part coffee shop, and Kent leans a little bit against Alexei’s arm as Bitty carries on. Jack looks on lovingly, his eyes wide and warm, nodding along at everything his boyfriend is saying.

When he finishes off, Bitty sighs, fixing his gaze on Kent and Alexei.

“We brought everyone else earlier,” Bitty tells them, winding his arms around himself with a smile.

“Had to show our people first,” Jack agrees.

“Lardo’s gonna help design some menus, and Ollie and Wicks have already drafted some _great_ sketches for the design.” Jack smiles fondly as Bitty rambles on about their friends. “Holtz and Rans said they can take some time off to help with logistics too, it’s really coming together.”

“It’s gonna be amazing, Bits,” Jack tells him.

Bitty smiles brightly. “Thank you, Jack,” he gushes. “Thank _you_ guys,” Bitty carries on, like Kent and Alexei somehow had a hand in this. “For just being here.”

“So great, B,” Alexei says. “Loving it already!”

“Yeah, Bitty,” Kent agrees. “This is cool. Thanks for bringing us along.”

Bitty flushes pink but keeps his head up. “I’m real excited,” he says. “I can’t wait to start.”

Bitty carries on about his vision before there’s a knock on the front door, one that Jack quickly answers, before he procures a few pizzas for all of them. They planned for this, so Bitty grabs a blanket from the back so they can all settle down on the floor while they eat, and it’s pretty sweet.

For his last night in Providence, it’s a good one.

* * *

The rest of the night feels like Kent has finally let out a breath he’s been holding in for a long time, and when they get back to Jack’s building, he gets off the elevator with Alexei.

“Don’t wait up,” he tells Jack and Bitty, who smile knowingly. Alexei lights up, dragging Kent down the hallway as fast as he can. “Eager much?”

“Have to take Sobaka out,” Alexei tells him with a grin.

Kent groans, but when they open the door and Sobaka greets them with total enthusiasm, Kent can’t be bothered to mind. They leash her up and hop back on the elevator to take her down, and once they’re sure they’re alone on the trail they twine their fingers together again.

“When are you flying?” Alexei asks after a bit.

Kent doesn’t want to think about it. But still he answers, “My flight’s at 5.”

“So you’re getting to airport… hour before?”

“Give or take.”

“Hmmm.”

“Why?”

“Just thinking how to get you to miss it.”

Kent laughs. “You think it’s that easy?”

“Could be,” Alexei says, smiling.

“Could be,” Kent agrees. But he’s got shit to do at home, a life to get back to, a cat to see. “Kit’s waiting for me,” he says. “Can’t miss it.”

“I’m supposing that’s true.” He tugs Kent closer to him. “Can’t leave Kit waiting.”

They take their time on the walk, talking about what Kent’s most excited for at home. He misses his rink, he tells Alexei, and it’s nice to be in his own space so he’s ready to get back to his apartment. He prefers the dry heat to the humidity, and all the exploring he did with Jack earlier in the week makes him excited to find some more hikes out in Nevada.

They’re almost back to Jack’s when Kent’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out, surprised to see Jeff’s name.

“Gimme a sec,” Kent murmurs, and Alexei nods. “Swoops?”

“Fucking freaking out, Kent,” Swoops rushes, and Kent immediately stops walking. He motions for Alexei to carry on, and though he looks concerned, he nods. “How am I--I can’t be a fucking _father_? What the fuck--”

“Hey, hey,” Kent says quietly. “Breathe for a sec, Jeff.” He listens as Swoops exhales. “What’s going on? Is Elle okay?”

“Elle’s fine,” he answers. “But I just--got off the phone with my own dad and he--he was a shit father, Kent! He was absolute fucking garbage! And I thought--all my goddamn life growing up I thought he was a great guy. And I’m thinking about it now, and--he wasn’t!”

“Damn, Jeff.”

“What if my girl’s like that? What if I just do the shit he did and I think I’m this great fucking father and then one day looking back--”

“The fact that you even care,” Kent stops him, “proves that you’re not going to do the shit he did.” Kent doesn’t need to know what it was, his parents made their own mistakes. But that’s the thing that matters. That they’ve seen it, that they know it’s not great. He listens to another long exhale from Jeff, and notices up ahead that Alexei’s paused to give him some space but is still waiting for him. “Being aware of it’s the first step, man.”

It’s silent on the other end. “Is that enough?”

“No,” Kent says. “You gotta _be better_. But you’ve got Elle and me and all the Aces to keep you in check.”

He can practically hear Swoops nodding. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about names, you two’ve been discussing names, yeah?” Kent asks, trying to keep Swoops talking but calm him down at the same time. He starts walking toward Alexei, whose face eases when he realizes Kent’s coming toward him. “Petunia still on the market?”

“No,” Swoops huffs, then laughs. “Elle knocked out all flower names. Said we don’t actually care about flowers enough to name our daughter after one. She said our favorite fucking hockey players would make more sense.”

“Smart one, that Elle.”

“It’s why I married her,” Swoops mutters. “Someone’s gotta have brains when mine shuts down from too many pucks to the face.”

Kent laughs and trades the hand his phone is in so he can re-lace his fingers with Alexei’s. “Good foresight.”

“Things you need to be thinking of as you re-enter the dating world,” Swoops tells him.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” Kent looks up at Alexei and smiles. “You don’t need to worry, Jeff. You’re a good dude.” He hesitates before saying, “You got me in shape, after all.”

“Fuck yeah I did.”

Kent chuckles. “You’ll be okay.”

Swoops sighs on the other end. “Thank you, Kent. Man, I don’t know. I’ve never done this shit before. Fucking scary.”

“That’s why you’re doing it first. So I don’t have to.” Swoops laughs, and Kent squeezes Alexei’s hand. “I gotta go. You good?”

“Yeah, man. Thanks again.”

“Call me if you’re not.”

“Swoops okay?” Alexei asks quietly, but not quietly enough.

“Tell Mashkov--” Swoops starts.

“Nope, stop,” Kent stops him, shaking his head as Swoops howls in laughter on the other end. Kent hangs up after a quick goodbye and slides his phone back into his pocket, still shaking his head. “He’s fine,” Kent answers Alexei’s question.

“Already being best godfather,” Alexei hums, almost like he’s proud, and Kent rushes with unexpected warmth.

“I haven’t gotten that gig yet,” Kent reminds him.

“We all have wins,” Alexei says. “B’s bakery, Zimmboni and I with the Armor.” Kent laughs. “Is your turn.”

* * *

They pull extra blankets out of the closet to Kent’s complaining and curl up under them, wound around one another wearing some of Alexei’s sweats.

Kent presses his forehead to Alexei’s chest while Sobaka settles down at their feet, and sighs as Alexei’s hands glide up his back.

“S’nice,” Kent murmurs. Alexei presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Too easy.”

“Easy things not always being bad, Kent,” Alexei tells him.

Kent hooks his leg over Alexei’s hip and looks up at him. “I wasn’t complaining. But it does, doesn’t it? Feel easy.”

“Mm. Like I’m on ice.”

 _Makes sense_ , Kent thinks. “You really think we can do this?” Kent asks.

Alexei hums. “Guessing we’ll find out.”

* * *

Despite his morning in bed with Alexei, where Kent doesn’t flee and instead lets Alexei drag his fingers through his hair and coax sleepy kisses out of him while Sobaka gives him a thousand kisses of her own, Kent spends most of his last day with Jack.

They grab brunch at a diner (Jack’s turn to pay) and take a new hike that not even Jack has done before. The view is okay, but it’s just being in Jack’s company, chirping each other about hockey and _dating,_ that makes it worth it.

Bitty has a few pies wrapped for him to take, and Alexei accompanies them all to the airport when it’s time to take Kent back.

It’s strange to remember how annoyed he’d been when he arrived in Providence and found all of them waiting for him, but he feels like it would be weird if they weren’t all dropping him off.

He sits in the back with Alexei again, letting Alexei play with Kent’s hand out of view of the others. Kent asks Bitty for more details about his bakery and he’s happy to fill the ride with his plans.

Kent hopes, more than anything, that he can take the joy that Providence has given him back to Vegas with him. He still doesn’t know what his future is going to look like, but suddenly he’s less afraid of whatever it is that comes next.

“Alright,” Bitty says when they arrive. “Everybody out! Hug time!”

“Bitty it’s fine,” Kent says. "I can just grab my shit."

Jack throws the car into park anyway. They grab Kent’s bag from the back and Bitty hurries with the first hug. “Let us know when you land!” he says. “And make sure you send pictures of Kit.”

“Can do,” Kent says.

Alexei’s next, his smile enough to start a fire in Kent’s chest. “More pictures to me though,” Alexei says.

Kent grins. “Obviously.” Their kiss is quick, not nearly long enough, but it calms something in Kent anyway.

Jack is last, his arms surrounding Kent in a way that reminds him everything’s going to be okay. “Good to see you, Parse.”

“Miss you already, Zimms,” Kent murmurs.

When he pulls back, Kent’s stomach clenches. Suddenly his eyes are burning and he nods quickly at the three of them, readjusting his bag on his shoulder. He doesn’t want to leave. Providence has brought him more inner peace than Kent ever could’ve expected.

With one last goodbye and a wink from Alexei, Kent heads into the airport.

He’s not even through security when his phone buzzes.

 **Alexei  
** I’m thinking Zimmboni and B will be celebrating your leave tonight… think they forgot I am still in car

Kent bursts into laughter, holding his phone to his chest with a smile.

They’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter & tumblr @wholesomeholsom!


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